Mr Brightside
by AoiGensou
Summary: A song fic wherein Harry is in a band and Draco lives with him. Draco makes a humongous mistake thinking Harry won't find out about it. But our intrepid Gryffindor has the knack of being in the wrong place at the right time...


Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling et al, and the song Mr. Brightside belongs to The Killers et al. Nothing here is mine, I just expanded on the song's general idea. And turned it slashy!

It was chance that I saw them at all that day.

It was a Tuesday, and Draco was supposed to be at work while I was going to be at a rehearsal. Apparently neither of us was where we said we would be that day. I had a legitimate excuse but I didn't bother asking Draco if he had one too -- not after what I saw.

The band had decided to take a fifteen minute break, so I went down the street for a short walk, hoping to get some air. The little room that my band was practicing in had gotten really stuffy, and the warmth of four sweaty bodies in such a small space was starting to put a strain on my voice.

I was the singer and bassist of a band, one that I started after I left Hogwarts. It had been a surprise to everyone when the 'Boy Who Defeated Voldemort' joined up with three Muggle musicians. None of my friends had known that I was musically inclined; I didn't even know it myself until what should have been my seventh year. I needed something to keep my mind off things when I wasn't hunting Snape or the Horcruxes, and I saw a used bass guitar in the window of a second hand shop. I wanted to do something new and different -- so I bought it. It was an even bigger surprise when the band, Euthanasia, hit it big several years later.

Practicing wasn't my favorite thing to do with the band – surprisingly, I much preferred actually performing in front of an audience. It was so different from the stupid hype about me in the Wizarding World. Our fans were Muggles who didn't know anything about the 'Boy Who Lived' bollocks. This time, I earned my fame. On stage I could forget about everything but the music, and the fans. It was an escape. Still, sometimes it got to be too much, so practice was a welcome respite from the touring we'd been doing for the last six months. I was happy to be back in London again, back in the small flat that Draco and I shared, rather than a lonely hotel room. I had missed Draco fiercely while we toured Europe and the United States, but he hadn't been able to get the time off from work and even though he has an immense amount of money, he refused to chance losing his job. Damn him.

My walk had taken me to a park that was a few streets away from the studio where Euthanasia practiced, and I was happy to see that it was almost deserted. I chose a bench and sat down, trying to ignore the time and draw my break out as long as I possibly could. It was an unusually nice day, practically cloudless, and if I hadn't picked a bench underneath a tree, the sun would have been awful.

A sudden gust of wind sprang up, carrying with it the unpleasant smell of cigarette smoke. I couldn't stand the things – they had a terrible effect on my voice – so I tried to wave it away. I searched for the source of the smoke so that I could move further from them and I caught a flash of silver-blond hair in my peripheral vision. I turned to make sure I wasn't just seeing things, and what I saw made me smile at first. It seemed that Draco was on a break from work as well. He was leaning against a tree and smoking, facing away from me. It was one of those habits that I griped about around him, complaining that he was ruining my voice, but I secretly loved. He looked graceful when he smoked – his fingers seemed so delicate as they held the fag, and he always had a look of relaxation as he slowly blew the smoke out. I even loved the way he flicked the ashes from the end.

I smiled as I watched him take another drag, his name frozen on my lips as I stared at him. He had the nicest arse, and it looked even better leaning against that tree, being hugged by the light grey fabric of the trousers that matched his suit jacket. He probably knew it, too; everything he did was purposeful, and arranging himself against the tree that way was definitely not an accident. He knew that he looked good, and he flaunted it. The most annoying thing was that it wasn't really something he planned. It seemed as if every movement of every day was organised beforehand, but it was natural to Draco, a simple routine. He even looked graceful when he fell down – I'd only seen him do it twice, and each time I had had to double check to see if he hadn't actually meant to do it. When he was nearly finished with his cigarette, I noticed how much time had passed, and I snapped myself out of my staring contest with his rear. I had opened my mouth and was just about to call out his name when he pushed away from the tree and called out to someone else. My initial thought was that he was meeting someone from the office, but that idea was soon forgotten.

At first I couldn't believe my eyes, it was such an unbelievable notion to me. Pansy Parkinson jogged up to him, smiling, and Draco tossed his cigarette away while linking hands with her. She was dressed in a baby pink pantsuit and ridiculously high heels, with her dark hair done up in a French braid. She looked at him coyly, as if she expected something, and he leaned down and kissed her. I nearly choked on my own saliva at the sight, but before I could even think to stand up and walk over to them, they were gone.

I sat there for what felt like hours – but, really, could have only been a few minutes – puzzling over what I had just seen. I felt numb, probably from shock. There were so many questions I needed to ask, that I think my brain decided to shut itself down. Eventually, my watch screamed at me, telling me my break was over. I was at a loss; I didn't know what to do, so I did the only thing that I could: I went back to the studio. I think my band mates could sense that something was wrong when I got back, because they kept asking if anything had happened. I told them that I didn't know what they were talking about.

Needless to say, rehearsal ended early. I couldn't concentrate; my mind kept wandering back to Draco and wondering what exactly he was doing with Miss Pansy Parkinson.

I waited up for Draco that evening, hoping that he wouldn't be too late coming home, as he had been the last few days. We had promised to make some time that evening to spend together; it was hard on him living with a musician who toured so much. Sometimes it didn't even feel like we lived together for all the time I actually spent at home; and even when I was home Draco was often busy with paperwork from the office. But we loved each other, and it didn't matter if we didn't get to spend much time together, all that mattered was that we got to spend any time together at all. He had been working on a case that took a lot of effort and extra hours, and he was coming home both grumpy and exhausted. Thankfully, I didn't have much of a wait; he came home about two hours after I did, and I felt a little better. Maybe it wasn't what it looked like? Maybe it was only a "between friends" thing? I figured that I was probably overreacting, and it helped me to think that. I mustered up a smile as he walked through the door, and he looked surprised.

"I thought you weren't going to be home until later," he remarked. I shrugged.

"Practice finished early." He nodded once and toed off his shoes in the entryway, hanging his over cloak on the coat rack by the door. He padded into the living room and draped his suit jacket over the back of one of the chairs, tossing an armful of paperwork into the seat.

"How was practice?" he asked.

"It was okay, but the room they gave us was too small." He came over to me and kissed my temple. Not many people knew that I hated enclosed areas because of some things that happened during the war involving Voldemort and a dark box, but Draco did. In the past, he'd always made sure that places that could trigger my claustrophobia were avoided whenever possible.

"Were you okay?" He spoke through my hair, his lips not moving far from me. The way he was acting made me feel even more relieved.

"Yes; it wasn't _that_ small. How was work for you?"

"Busy. I didn't even get a lunch break." I felt the relief slowly drain out of me, and I frowned, but didn't say anything, I only nodded.

We were quiet for a while after that. He sat down next to me and closed his eyes, and I watched him relax with what I was sure was a slightly suspicious expression on my face. I realized that he would ask too many questions if he saw me that way, and I got up to go to the kitchen. Making dinner was the perfect excuse for me to get away and think without being questioned.

"What would you like for dinner?" I called to him from the kitchen.

"Doesn't matter to me," he answered back.

"Pasta?"

"Sure."

I started boiling noodles and preparing sauce and salad, trying to steer my mind away from the fact that he had either forgotten his little break that afternoon, or had blatantly lied to me. Of course, he had lied to me before, but this bothered me more than any other time in the past.

"Did you see anyone interesting today?" I asked, trying to sound more curious than suspicious.

"No. Just the partners. Like I said, I couldn't get away from work. Why, were you expecting me to?" he replied, sounding a bit distracted. He had probably picked up some of that work he'd brought home with him. I bit my lip before answering, hoping that my voice didn't give away what I was feeling: upset and slightly angry.

"No, not really." I swallowed the feelings and set the table, calling for Draco to come and eat.

There was silence through much of the meal; we were never ones to talk while our mouths were full. Well, he wasn't anyway. I picked up the habit after living with him for two years, and usually it was a comfortable silence. I don't know if he felt it too, but to me the silence that day felt dark and oppressive.

"Draco?" I finally said, setting my fork down with a sharp tic onto the table. He looked up curiously from his meal.

"Yes Harry?"

"Well… We're starting to plan our next tour, for next year."

"That's nice." He started to eat again, but paused when he saw that I hadn't picked up my fork again. He shot me a pointed glance that clearly said 'keep going.'

"I just wondered if you wanted to come with us this time." Draco wiped his mouth with his serviette, preparing to reply, but I rushed on before he had the chance to say anything. "I mean it's going to be another long one, and it's not like we need the money that you bring in what with your inheritance and mine, and I don't think that you'd lose your job over a six month leave of absence. I mean you're the best they have! They wouldn't fire you!" Once I said it, I had to take a deep breath at the end.

Draco gave me a patient but longsuffering look that made me feel as if I were a child asking for the impossible. I _hated_ that look.

"Harry, you know that they _would_ fire me, best or not. There are too many lawyers who would be eager to take my place to chance losing it. It's not that I don't want to be with you when you're away; it's simply that I want to be doing what I like, without the fear of having to start over. You know it isn't about the money."

I also hated how he made it all sound so damn logical and reasonable. He was a lawyer through and through.

"Harry," he continued, "you could always quit the band…"

"No fucking way. We've put too much effort and time into this band for me to just quit. And besides, it's _my_ band. I started it, and it wouldn't be fair of me to drop them. And I _like_ making music! How could you ask me that?"

"Wait, calm down, Harry. I was just asking you so that I could illustrate a point. You asking me to risk losing my job is like me asking you to quit Euthanasia." His voice was gentle, but firm. I got the point and glared at the table in front of me, as if it had something personally to do with my losing the argument. Draco began eating again, and I picked my fork up to push the food around on the plate.

The rest of the meal was finished in silence, and soon after I went to our bedroom to practice my bass and to be alone. I didn't trust myself to not blurt out what I'd seen that day, and I wanted something more solid to go on before I confronted him with what might turn out to be ridiculous accusations.

Later that night, I faked sleep when he came to bed. I just wasn't in the mood that night, and didn't want to tell him. Draco didn't waste much time getting ready to go to sleep. He spent about twenty minutes in the bathroom brushing his teeth and doing god knows what else, compared to his usual hour, and then put his pyjamas on and slid beneath the covers to his spot next to me. Once he was settled and comfortable, he promptly fell asleep. No kiss, no spooning me, nothing. I felt tears of anger well in my eyes. For the first time in the two years that we'd shared a bed, he hadn't told me he loved me, something he'd done religiously every night whether I was asleep or not.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

I waited about two more weeks to call him on anything. Usually I'm one to rush headlong into things – consequences be damned – but this was something that I instinctively knew I had to tread lightly around. If I accused Draco of cheating on me and he really wasn't… well, Draco had a temper and I didn't want to be on the wrong side of a false assumption. Until I knew anything for sure I was just going to sit back and observe. Hermione would have been proud of me if she had known.

In the meantime I tried my best to act as if I didn't know anything, which was difficult because I was never that good a liar. I picked up a thing or two from Draco over the years, but was still far better than me when it came to deception. He didn't seem to sense that anything was the matter, though, so I suppose that I managed.

For the most part, things seemed to be pretty normal, and if I hadn't seen the display in the park I probably never would have noticed that anything was wrong. There were tiny little changes in his attitude, but I only noticed because I was looking for them. He didn't say 'I love you' to me unless I said it first; he kept his eyes closed when we made love, even though he used to tell me that he loved to watch me when we had sex; his hugs were shorter, and his attention seemed to wander when we were talking at night. I nearly bit through my lip each time I noticed something to keep myself from saying anything. Those things didn't necessarily mean that he was having an affair. Yes, I was trying my best to convince myself.

There was one point that I thought about using Veritaserum on Draco to find out if he was stepping out on me. Two things stopped me, though. The first was the fact that I didn't know how to get it without going through the Ministry. The second was that I wasn't sure if I wanted to know or not yet. If I put it into Draco's drink one evening, and found out that he wasn't cheating, then I could probably pass it off as an elaborate joke, and that would be the end of it. If he admitted to actually doing it, though...I don't know what I would have done with the information, not to mention how Draco would react to my betrayal. Draco had a peculiar sort of double standard. What was okay for him to do was not necessarily something that he would like me to do. I put up with it because I expected it of him and knew that he wouldn't do anything to intentionally hurt me. We'd developed a trust of each other in the years that we'd been together. The truth was, I was afraid to know. For all my Gryffindor bravery, I had a hard time mustering any to find out the truth.

I acquired some hard evidence toward the end of the two weeks of observation. I had gone to the Wizarding law firm where Draco worked during his lunch hour on my day off from practice to see if he wanted to have lunch with me. We rarely spent any afternoons with each other, and I thought that it would be a nice change of pace to eat together. It would be something we could share together just in case those little changes I'd noticed were merely because we didn't spend enough time alone. I had put off both practicing my bass and composing a new song to do this with him, but when I arrived I was told by his secretary that he wasn't in. I asked when he was supposed to be back, expecting that he had either gone to lunch before I had arrived, or was working on something outside of his office. Unfortunately for me, his secretary told me that he had called in sick that day.

I knew for a fact that Draco had gotten up, showered and dressed for work that morning, and said nothing about feeling ill.

I thanked the secretary and left the building, not sure what I was going to do next. I ended up going for a long walk back to the park where I first saw Draco and Pansy together. It was quiet, only a few people were there – mostly couples who were on their lunch breaks sharing a picnic, or housewives with their young children. The atmosphere around me felt heavy, as if a storm were brewing, but the sky didn't show any outward sign of it.

I sat down on the same bench as I had that day two weeks before and drew my knees up to my chest. I didn't know what I was going to do with this information, but I had to do _something_. I'm a man of action, and nothing kills the spirit more than _in_action.

My fingers trailed lightly over the rough surface of the wooden bench that I sat on as I mulled over ways I could bring this up with Draco. One misstep in the conversation, and I'd find myself talking to a stone wall. Of course, I could just go for my usual blunt honesty, and see how far that took me. It would be the easiest course of action, since thinking like a Slytherin wasn't generally considered my strong suit. I had too much of a Gryffindor mind for schemes.

My finger hit a splinter in the wood, and I gasped slightly and brought it up to examine it. It was funny, I thought, that this situation I'd been in for those two weeks was a lot like having a splinter. It would hurt to pull out, and may even bleed a little, but that was infinitely better than letting the wood stay in my finger and fester. It would hurt even worse to remove the splinter after a week or two. Those thoughts ultimately made up my mind. I had let this thing with Draco fester long enough, and now I just had to bite the bullet and talk to him, like I should have done in the first place.

My cell phone rang out of the blue, startling me. Grimacing ruefully, I answered it, hearing the voice of Bryon Akkerman, Euthanasia's manager, on the other end. Just what I needed…

"Harry, we need to talk," he said, getting straight to the point. I sighed; this couldn't be good.

"Well, I'm here. Shoot."

"I've just spoken to the president of the label, and he and the rest of the execs say that they need you guys to start recording by the day after tomorrow."

"Did they say why?"

"No, and I didn't ask. El Presidente didn't sound very pleased at the time. You were supposed to have twelve new songs ready for recording last week."

"I know, I know… they'll be ready. We just need one more, and then some rehearsal. Can you get them to put it off another few days? We can't record songs that have never been rehearsed. Tell them that I'll have all of the songs for them to look over by tomorrow afternoon."

"I'll see what I can do, but I'm not making any promises."

I sighed and put my hand on my forehead. "I know that this question isn't going to spur on any changes, but don't you think it's a little unreasonable that we're expected to start recording brand new songs not three weeks after we get home from our tour?"

"I was wondering when you were going to ask that."

"Good to know I'm predictable."

"I'm supposed to anticipate questions like this, don't worry. And to answer, yes, it is a little unorthodox, but the label is trying to capitalize on your popularity while it can. Euthanasia is their cash cow, and they're milking you for all you're worth."

"And here I thought they actually liked and respected us." I gave a bitter laugh, and Bryon cleared his throat nervously.

"Harry, you know that's not it. They _do_ like and respect you, it's why you hold so much clout in the industry. But they're also a corporation out for money. That's just the way the business, and the world, works."

"Yeah, I know… Sorry about the mutinous questions."

"Don't worry about it, it's to be expected." Bryon paused for a moment, as if considering his words. "Hey, Harry, you sound a little distracted. Anything the matter?"

I groaned. Could everyone but Draco tell that something was upsetting me? I really had to look into not wearing my heart on my sleeve so much. "I'm fine, it's nothing that a good recording session won't fix I'm sure." The strain was showing in my voice, I'm sure.

"Hey, don't sweat this so much. Mr. Bushner may be upset, but they're not going to drop you because of this."

"I know; that's not what I'm worried about. But thanks Bryon."

"I'll get in touch with you about that deadline."

"I can hardly wait."

"Talk to you later."

"Bye." I hung up the phone and stuck it in the pocket of my trousers. A stiff breeze had started up, and my hair was starting to blow in my face, along with the first spatters of rain. I hadn't even realized that it was clouding over during the conversation, and I found that I didn't care. I leaned my head back to face the grey clouds and allowed the rain to batter me. It wasn't long before the skies opened up completely and I was soaked.

As I was pelted, I came to terms with my decision. It was almost like a new beginning for me out there that afternoon in the London rain. All my doubts about what to do were washed away, and while there were still uncertainties left, I knew that I couldn't live without knowing what exactly was going on. I was going to confront Draco that evening.

I got up and started for home when the first bolt of lightning hit; I had chosen my path and I didn't need to sit there and brood about it any more, and risk getting struck. The walk home felt like a death march, and seemed like it took twice the time that it usually took. With each step I felt a sick sort of dread building in my stomach. I never felt this nervous going up against Voldemort. Hell, I'd take him over talking to Draco about a suspected infidelity any day. At least Voldemort didn't have the ability to break my heart into pieces with a word.

I was dripping when I finally arrived home, though the rain had stopped twenty minutes into the walk. I realized belatedly that I could have Apparated rather than taking the time to walk, but it was also a time that I took to try and clear my head and work out what exactly I wanted to say. I shrugged my jacket off in the entryway along with removing my shoes, and went straight to the bathroom for a shower. If I was going to do this, it was going to be with some dignity, not looking like a drowned rat.

The water pelted me, finishing the job that the rain had started. As I stood in the almost too-hot spray, my mind went over possible scenarios. Each one was more depressing than the last. They ran from Draco laughing at me for my ridiculous jealousy, all the way to him simply leaving me without a word. Both my fear and my anger were riled by the end of my shower, and I struggled to contain them until it was appropriate. I had to be level headed about this. If I let my emotions get the best of me, I could very possibly screw this up royally. By the time I had dried myself and gotten dressed, the anger and fear were bunched into a little ball in the corner of my soul, waiting to be called forth when needed.

Once I was presentable, I set about straightening the flat. I had somewhat neglected the cleaning over the previous weeks with my fretting, and it was a wonder that Draco didn't notice that. In my mind, his lack of attention was due to either one of two things: he was working on an important case at work, or his mind was in Pansy's bed.

"It was just a kiss… that's all, nothing more. You used to kiss Hermione all the time, and it didn't mean anything. It was friendly. You're simply overreacting, and Draco will tell you that when he gets home," I muttered under my breath to keep myself from completely losing my cool.

I knew that I could have used magic to help me out, but it was soothing to do things by hand. It's sometimes nice to let yourself get caught up in manual labor; you focus more on the task at hand rather than whatever is bothering you. It's a chance to clear your mind, rather like Occlumency.

After I had satisfied myself that the flat was as clean as it was going to get short of taking everything out and scrubbing the walls and floors with bleach, I found myself standing in front of the refrigerator looking for something to prepare for dinner. Well, perhaps 'looking' is too active a word to use. Rather, I was staring at the contents of the refrigerator, and allowing the cold air to escape into the kitchen around me. Years ago if I had done this, I would have received harsh words from the Dursleys, and perhaps missed a meal or two because of it. In my independence, I took pleasure in taking my time choosing what I wanted without fear of reproach for boosting the power bill or other such rubbish.

Eventually I settled on something simple: leftover chicken soup I'd made two days before, with fresh crusty French bread from the bakery down the street. I set about reheating the soup and setting the table with bowls, silverware, and butter. I was trying to keep my mind busy by running through possible lyrics that I could jot down. I don't know what I'd been thinking, promising to have another song done by the next day, but I don't believe that I'd been in my right mind at the time. Everything that I thought of sounded trite, and I didn't even have any ideas for a melody.

The increasing irritation with my lack of inspiration was cut short when I heard the door to the flat open and shut, and Draco making his way through the living room over to the kitchen. I turned to greet him, placing a small smile on my face.

"Draco, you're home! How was work?" I asked in a falsely bright voice. He shrugged slightly.

"The same." I frowned at him, but he didn't see, he was busy spreading butter on a slice of bread and eating it.

"Dinner will be ready in a few minutes," I said to fill the silence that followed. "I hope you don't mind leftovers, I couldn't be arsed to fix something else. And afterward, I have something that we need to talk about."

"Sorry Harry, but I have a business dinner this evening with a client. I just came home to change my clothes before I head out again."

"Oh… I didn't realize."

"It just came up today, in a meeting. I'm sorry I didn't let you know sooner, but these things happen."

He had the audacity to look at me in the eyes as he said that. I had to turn away from him under the pretence of needing to stir the soup so that I didn't lash out at him and say or do something I would regret later. The sting of betrayal was keener than ever before.

"When will you be home?" I asked, staring into the soup as if it held the answers to life's mysteries.

"I don't know. It might run long, so don't be surprised if I'm not home before you go to bed." Draco walked up behind me and kissed me on my cheek before he left for the bedroom. I had tensed my entire body without realizing it when Draco pecked my cheek, and it took a couple of minutes to relax myself. I set the stirring spoon I was clutching down on the counter, and walked calmly over to the entranceway where both our outerwear was stored. If Draco had come home simply to change, then that meant he was going to wear his Muggle overcoat as opposed to his wizard cloak and the robes he had worn to work.

I handled the medium-weight fabric carefully in one hand and pulled my wand out of my pocket. A swish, flick, jab and muttered spell later, I could track Draco all over the British Isles. I hung it back up on the coat rack when I was finished and went back to the kitchen. A few minutes later, Draco came out of our bedroom wearing a light grey cashmere jumper and ash coloured trousers. He smelled of cologne.

"I'm leaving," he stated from behind me. I didn't turn to face him, but I nodded to signal that I heard him.

"Have a good time," I said insincerely. He gave a short laugh.

"Don't wait up."

"Bye…"

His footsteps retreated to the front of the flat and paused. I knew that he was probably putting his overcoat on. There was a rattle of keys being placed into a pocket and a click of the latch, and I was left alone.

"I love you, Draco." I said to the empty flat, imagining in my mind that he said it back to me.

I paid attention to the tracking spell as I put the evening's meal away, waiting for it to calm down and let me know when Draco had arrived to wherever he was going. By the time that it had, I had finished cleaning up and was churning out the worst scenarios that I could think of, not being able to help myself.

I Apparated a short distance away from where I felt Draco was, and looked around to see where I was. It was luckily in an alley, and no Muggles had seen me. I sauntered out and tried to look inconspicuous as I got my bearings. It turned out that Draco was at a small restaurant near Diagon Alley. I walked inside and glanced at the people occupying the tables, hoping to catch a glimpse of Draco and his "client." It didn't take long to spot his unmistakable hair among the patrons, and it appeared that he was alone. I asked the hostess to give me a table near the back, where he wouldn't see me but I could see him. It was a stroke of luck that he wasn't facing the entrance, or I would have been discovered immediately.

Once seated, the waiter came by and took my order. I wasn't hungry at all, but I ordered a plate of chips, and a Sangria. I felt that I would need the comfort of the alcohol before the night was through, if my suspicions were correct.

It wasn't long before Draco's guest arrived, and my worst fears were confirmed. The hostess that had shown me to my table was escorting Pansy Parkinson to Draco's. She looked as if she had put an extra effort into her appearance that evening. Her hair was upswept in a twist, and she was wearing a knee-length black dress that floated on her. I never pegged her as the type to 'go Muggle' but both times I had seen her she had been wearing Muggle-style clothing, and I had to admit that she wore it well.

She sat in the seat next to Draco, and they began poring over their menus. I thought I saw her leg brush his in a suggestive manner, but I could have been imagining things. At one point Pansy said something to Draco, and abandoned her menu completely in favor of sharing his. Draco didn't seem to mind.

When the waiter arrived to take their order, Draco did all of the talking and Pansy appeared to take pleasure in that. It isn't every day that a woman has a devastatingly handsome man order for her at a nice restaurant. She kept flashing him bright smiles, which he returned with a small smirk. The waiter left after jotting a few things down, and Pansy and Draco fell into conversation. They seemed both familiar and awkward with each other at the same time, and I would have given anything at that moment for one of those Extendable Ears that Fred and George Weasley gave me years ago. I was dying of curiosity and jealousy, watching them banter back and forth. Their body language screamed 'flirt!'

It was after about two hours that Draco finally paid the bill and escorted Pansy out to the curb. I could see her hanging on his arm and simpering in his direction, thought Draco didn't seem to either notice or be bothered by it. They began walking down the street, and I soon lost sight of them as they strolled away. The tracking spell on Draco's jacket was still active, though, so I could still sense where he was.

As I waited for the sense that Draco had stopped traveling, I finished off the last of my third – or was it fourth? – Sangria. The plate of chips had long since vanished, and I felt a pleasant buzz in the area between my ears. I was planning on Apparating to wherever they'd gone, but I knew that it was dangerous in my intoxicated state. I wasn't going to let that stop me, though.

I felt the magic settle, and I paid the cheque. The restaurant employees were very cordial, and I think my attitude was abrupt. It didn't matter to me at the time, but I felt guilty afterward for not being very nice to them. After paying, I went back to the alley that I originally Apparated to and pulled out my wand. I looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to me before Disillusioning myself. I took a deep, steadying breath, and Disapparated.

Naturally, I Apparated a distance away from where I felt Draco was, as before, since I didn't want him to hear the pop of my magic. I didn't have to worry about the location, though, because I wasn't immediately visible. My invisibility cloak would have been better for complete stealth, but I hadn't thought about that as I left. I simply had to make do with what I could do on the spot.

I ended up Apparating in the parking lot of a hotel that I didn't recognize. Draco and Pansy, I soon found, were about twenty-five feet in front of me, in the office. I saw Draco hand some money over to the desk clerk, who handed a keycard back. Pansy, who was still attached to his arm, followed Draco dutifully over to a hallway. I waited until another patron was walking through the front entrance of the hotel and followed them through so that I didn't draw any attention to myself. I quickly got my bearings, and then took off after Draco and Pansy at a fast clip. Years of wandering the halls of Hogwarts at night taught me to keep my footfalls quiet, and I put these skills to work as I prowled after them.

It wasn't long until Draco stopped in front of a door and inserted the keycard into the slot. A light flashed green and the door opened. Draco let Pansy go inside first, and he put his hand at the small of her back as he went through the doorway behind her. I snuck through as the door was closing, hoping that I wasn't breathing loud enough to give myself away. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, and it almost drowned out the murmurs of the two other occupants of the room.

I was leaning against the hotel room door, letting it support me so that I didn't fall down. They didn't bother turning any of the lights on, they just let moonlight filter in through the slats of the Venetian blinds that blocked the windows. I saw their silhouettes come together in the middle of the room, and heard the sound of their lips meeting and parting repeatedly. I wanted very much to look away, but I couldn't bring myself to. My head buzzed with the alcohol but the intoxication was quickly being replaced by jealousy.

I slid silently to the floor as I saw Pansy's silhouette lace her fingers with Draco's. He leaned her back to kiss her harder on her mouth, and she placed the palm of her free hand on his chest, over his heart. I could feel my stomach bottoming out, as if I had changed directions on a broom too quickly. My eyes were glued to them as they moved into the light and I could see them more clearly.

Draco's hands slipped from their spots at Pansy's waist and hand and moved toward the back of her dress. I could see him fumbling with the zipper – something he'd never quite mastered – and awkwardly pulled it down. A voice in my head was steadily chanting _No…no…_ and my fingernails were digging into the skin of my palms.

Pansy's dress fell to the floor with a soft swish of fabric, and the two of them steadily moved toward the large bed. Her knees hit the bed and she fell backwards, dragging Draco down on top of her. Draco pinned her hands above her head, and their voices both sang out their pleasure. My eyes closed.

I felt a physical pain in my chest then, and I realized that 'heartache' isn't just something people say. I wanted to scream, and cry, and lash out at the world because of Draco's betrayal, but instead I rose from the floor and let myself out of their room as quietly as possible. I would have Apparated straight from where I was sitting, but I really didn't want them to know I'd been there. Draco was the last person that I wanted to see.

When I got back to the flat, I lost control. I began tearing the place apart. There was a decorative vase next to the fireplace that ended up smashed against the opposite wall. The dishes that were carefully laid out on the dining room table I swept to the floor, along with the silverware.

Echoes of what I had seen that night kept flashing through my mind, and I couldn't make it stop. Cries of rage resonated through the flat. Debris littered the floor in dangerous shards.

Eventually I made my way toward the bedroom. _Our bedroom_. I headed straight toward the closet and began pulling Draco's clothing out by the armful and throwing it onto the bed. I'd be damned if I let him stay after what he'd done. I had controlled myself for two weeks, second-guessed myself for two weeks. My instincts were wrong sometimes, and it angered me that this wasn't one of those times.

I don't know what it was, but in the middle of my frantic emptying of Draco's side of the closet something made me pause and look back. I saw the bureau that Draco and I shared, and on top of it, photographs of the two of us together. We looked so happy and in love in those photos. Some showed us shyly kissing each other and then turning away, another had us making faces at the camera. It tore my heart out to see this, and I dropped the robes that I had been ready to fling.

I walked over to the bureau and picked up a photograph of Draco and me with our arms around each other and ran a finger down the surface of the glass. How could things have gone from good to bad so quickly? Had I done something to push Draco away? I thought that we were still close, even with the separation due to me traveling…was it because of me being gone so much that he did this? Questions kept popping into my head faster than I could even attempt to answer them.

I set the photograph carefully down in its place and walked out of the bedroom. I ignored the mess I had made and went straight to the dining room, stopping only to pick up a pen and some paper. Glass crunched beneath my feet as I moved to sit down, immediately putting pen to paper and beginning to write.

_Going out of my mind_… a strike through the last word… _cage_

My mind flew through possible phrases and also flashes of Draco's and my relationship. I was humming softly to myself as I wrote, a basic melody whose notes changed slightly as I hammered through the lyrics.

_It was only a kiss_

Draco and I…even though I didn't see him at all during what would have been our seventh year, my obsession with him didn't dim in the least. If anything, I was more preoccupied with him than ever. Sometimes at night I would dream about the night in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, when I used Sectumsempra on him. I kept seeing a glimmer of betrayal on his face, just before the blood welled out of the wounds, but I always convinced myself that it was wishful thinking. By then, my feelings toward Ginny had cooled, and I recognized them as nothing more than a crush born of a desire to find a family to belong to.

I didn't see Draco again until one of the battles against the Dark Lord, where he was being used as a shield by his father, who was in turn protecting Voldemort.

I hadn't even paused to think about what I was doing. I threw myself into the thick of things, intent on getting Draco out of the line of fire. I couldn't even imagine how he must feel being used as a human shield, especially by his own father. I suppose it must have been akin to the betrayal that I felt when I learned of Snape's treachery against my parents, the night they died.

I managed to get Draco away from the battle, and take down Lucius at the same time. Since I was busy with the Malfoys, Voldemort had that little bit of time to retreat, and frankly, I was glad at that point. I didn't know if I could face him just then, not with thoughts of Draco in my mind distracting me.

It was later that I found out Draco had been hurt, and was being kept at St. Mungo's until he was well enough to be taken into custody. Before I knew what I was doing, I found myself outside of his door. A peek inside told me that he was asleep, and I crept in, being careful not to wake him. I remember that he looked so innocent while he slept, and just barely resisted brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. I did, however, pick up his arm as gently as possible and push the sleeve of the hospital gown up to the elbow, so that I could examine his forearm.

Somehow, I wasn't as shocked as I thought I'd be when I found no Dark Mark there, no matter what everyone thought.

_I just can't look; it's hurting_… the last word scratched out…_ killing me_

The next time I saw Draco, he was in his last year of law school and Euthanasia was just taking off. I was going through the difficult task of choosing a new drummer after our last one quit, and ended up in the same café that he was in, just outside of Diagon Alley. He was having lunch, and I was meeting a prospective candidate. When I noticed he was there, I decided to throw caution to the wind and try my luck at talking to him. Enough time had passed for me to feel comfortable with striking up a casual acquaintanceship; I assume he felt the same way since he didn't object when I walked up and greeted him.

At first, it was an on-again off-again cautious friendship due to our explosive personalities, but once Draco had finished law school it became something more. I had never had time for a real relationship what with Voldemort and then my band, so the absolute longing and lust I felt toward Draco came as somewhat of a shock to me. Not only because it was a man that I felt this way for, but because it was _Draco_. We had never had the sort of interaction that one could describe as friendly; hell, I wouldn't have even called us compatible. There was tension, true, but was it sexual? Looking back, that answer is clearly 'yes.'

_Choking on your alibis_

We danced around the issue for nearly two months. I was afraid of him running away from me if I told him, and I later found out that he was thinking the same thing. It was around the time of Euthanasia's first tour that he said 'I love you' to me. There was a vaguely terrified look in his eyes – I don't know whether it was because he said the words and was afraid that I'd brush him off, or because he was afraid that I would find someone new to replace him – and I have to say that that was one of the happiest days of my life.

How could we have gone from that to this?

_Jealousy turning saints into the sea_

Crumpled papers started to collect around my feet as I gathered phrases from each attempt and fit them together. The melody was firm in my mind, and I hoped that it wouldn't leave me until I had a chance to sing it to Nathaniel so he could write it down.

_I'm Mr. Brightside_

I was a fool to have been so naïve. Draco had always been a player, how could I have thought that he'd stay faithful to me? Damn my hopeful optimism, and damn Draco.

_I never…_

I never what? I never thought that I could feel this betrayed? I never prepared myself for the possibility that Draco might cheat? I never wanted to see what I had seen? All of that was true, and more.

I laid my head on my arms when I was finally satisfied with the song that I had written, and took several deep breaths. I always poured a lot of emotion into my songs, and this one had been particularly charged. I felt drained and wanted to just fall asleep where I sat. After a few minutes, though, I forced myself to stand and pull out my wand. A few well-placed spells and the kitchen and dining room no longer looked like a disaster zone.

I went through the flat repairing things, putting them back the way they were before I had gone berserk. I even put Draco's clothes back in the closet. He wouldn't hear it from me that night that I had seen him with Pansy. No, if he wanted to play games then I would play along with him. I just wouldn't stoop so low.

Once the flat was repaired, I fell into bed, utterly exhausted. I don't even know if Draco bothered to come home that night, I was sleeping so deeply. Besides, I had a meeting with the label executives that I had to be rested for.

When I woke the next morning, Draco was gone, but he had left a note on his pillow that informed me that he had gone to the office early and he was sorry that he had come in so late the previous night. Before this incident it would have put a smile on my face to see his thoughtfulness. That morning I simply crumpled the paper and tossed it to the floor, picking my wand up and Incendio-ing it until there was nothing left but ashes and a scorch mark on the carpet. It wasn't anything that couldn't be fixed with a repairing spell, though.

"Screw that," I said out loud, putting my wand down. Let Draco find it and ask about it. I doubted that he would even notice.

I got out of bed and undressed myself on the way to the bathroom, dumping each discarded article of clothing onto the floor as I went, knowing full well that Draco hated it.

After a quick shower, and not bothering to style my hair - I'd given up any hope of taming it years before - I dressed in whatever first fell into my hands that was clean. I spelled my hair dry, and moved to the kitchen to make and eat some toast. Draco's favourite teacup was sitting in the sink, and in a fit of childishness I knocked it over, cracking it. Before I could give in to the urge to drop it on the floor and stomp on it until it was nothing but glittering dust, though, I wiped my hands on a dishtowel and left the room.

One glance at the clock told me that I was going to be late if I didn't hurry up and leave, so I grabbed my bass from the bedroom and my stack of songs from the dining room table. As I opened the door, I took one look over my shoulder at the flat; one of the two places that I can ever remember being a home for me. Draco and I had created warmth and love after our loveless childhoods.

I choked back the anger and sadness at my thoughts and looked from the flat to the steps before me. With one foot in front of the other, I took the steps toward the destiny that Draco had determined for us the moment he first considered having a secret affair with Pansy.

I wasn't running behind schedule enough to warrant Apparating to the studio, and I thought that I could use the exercise anyway. I had plenty of energy to work off – mostly anger – and I didn't want to be fidgety in the meeting.

I bumped into several people on the street in my hurry to get where I was going, and I didn't bother apologizing. I'm not usually so callous – people tell me that I'm polite to a fault – but I wasn't feeling myself that day, for obvious reasons. I don't know if anyone yelled at me or if they just let me pass by; my gaze was riveted strictly on the pavement in front of me. I couldn't face the thought of socializing with the world that day. I could barely face the thought of seeing my bosses to talk about my music.

When I arrived at the office building where my meeting and that day's practice were to take place, I didn't even pause to check in at the front desk. Nobody stopped me. I suppose they recognized who I was and figured that I was in a hurry or something. I didn't ask, and they haven't bothered me about it.

I reached the door to the conference room faster than I wanted to, and I took several seconds to steel myself and to fix my facial expression into something that hopefully resembled casual nonchalance and good humor. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. The faint murmur that I heard drifting through paused in their conversation and a strong voice told me to come in. Pushing thoughts of Draco firmly to the darkest corners of my mind, I did.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Less than two hours later, I left the conference room feeling slightly better. The executives loved my songs, and couldn't wait to hear them in post-production. For most of the meeting, I spent my time tuning out the droning of the president and his yes-men rambling on about where they saw Euthanasia going in the future. It was a relief when they finally let me go, and I exited as quickly as was polite. My excuse for not staying for the entirety of the meeting was that the band had to rehearse; but while that was true, it was boring me to tears being in the same room as the rest of those men. Some of them reminded me far too much of Gilderoy Lockhart for comfort.

There was a modestly-sized practice studio in the corporate office that we had been invited to use for the day, and the rest of the band was waiting for me so that we could get on with it. I didn't bother knocking on the door before entering, and when I slipped through the threshold of the acoustically-sound room, I was swamped with questions. The most frequently-repeated one was, "How did it go?"

I laughed at my band mates. No matter how crappy things seemed, they could always lift my spirits.

"It went very well," I told them, "they loved my newest song."

Nathaniel, our lead guitarist, smiled at me. "I never had any doubts."

"Hey, Harry," Corban, the drummer, interjected, "you look like shit. Something the matter?"

I scowled at Corban, yet he didn't back down. He always had boldness in spades, too much to know when not to bother someone.

"Haven't been sleeping well lately," I replied, deliberately short. That didn't put off my band mates in the least, however.

"You sure it's just lack of sleep? You seem… down. Did you and that guy – what's his name? Dracon? Drago? Oh, it doesn't matter. Did you and whatsisface have a fight?"

"His name is Draco, and it's none of your business, Anthony," I growled back at our nosy rhythm guitarist. He flashed a cheeky smile at me and I flipped him the two-fingered salute.

"We've never seen you look this bad, Harry. You have to spill some details!" Corban chimed in again. I felt my brief good mood rapidly dissipating.

"I don't want to talk about it," I growled. "And anyway, isn't it some unwritten rule that guys aren't supposed to pry into situations that involve emotions?" Corban looked like he was going to say something back to me, but he refrained when Nathaniel spoke up.

"Guys, leave it."

"Spoilsport," Anthony muttered, but he didn't press the issue. Corban opened his mouth to retort, but thought better of it when I glared at him. Instead, he rubbed his hands together.

"So, about that new song of yours…"

I grabbed the lyrics of my song from the top of the stack of songs I was carrying and handed it over to Nathaniel. He looked over it quickly, and nodded.

"It's nice. I see you have some notes on how the bass line goes; did you have anything in mind for the melody?"

I nodded, and grabbed the lyrics sheet out of Nathaniel's hand. After glancing over my lyrics, letting the emotions come forth again, I began singing. I could tell that all three of them had their attention focused solely on me, and when I finished, there was an almost stunned silence.

"Geez, Harry. That's pretty emotional," Anthony said, finally breaking the tension. I nodded, finding myself unable to speak for some reason.

"I think I know where you're going with this," Nathaniel said, walking over to his bag and pulling out a blank page for sheet music. "Anthony, grab your acoustic. Corban, give me a basic beat, we'll fancy it up after we get the melody down on paper."

Anthony and Corban did as they were told, and I'd never been so glad that Nathaniel had taken charge as I was at that moment. It took several seconds, but when I felt prepared to speak, I went over to Nathaniel.

"Thanks," I said, unable to elaborate. He nodded knowingly.

"Don't worry about it. I know what it's like… You know that I'm always here for you if you need me, don't you?" Nathaniel placed his hand on my shoulder, and I couldn't bring myself to shrug it off.

"Yes, thanks. I think I'm going to be okay, but I appreciate the sentiment."

Before Nathaniel could reply, my mobile phone rang, and I excused myself to take it in the hallway while the others worked on the song.

"Hello?"

"Harry? It's Bryon."

"Hi Bryon, what's news?"

"I wanted to let you know that I spoke with the president and the rest of the executives, and got the recording date pushed back by a few weeks. Is that going to be enough time?"

"How many weeks is 'a few weeks'?"

"Three or so."

"Great, that should be perfect."

"Somehow you don't seem that enthused about it. Anything the matter?"

"Nothing new since we last spoke. Nothing I'd like to talk about, anyway."

"Whatever you say, Harry. Take care of yourself, okay? We can't have the front man of Euthanasia getting sick or depressed on us."

"Your concern for my welfare is underwhelming."

"I do my best. You know I mean well."

"Yes, I do. Don't you have other, less successful bands to pester?"

"I get the hint. I'm going."

"Thanks, Bryon."

"No prob, Harry. I meant what I said about taking care of yourself."

"I'll try."

"See that you do."

I pressed the 'end' button on my mobile and shook my head. Bryon's offhanded concern was somehow more comforting than anything else that anyone could have shown me. Rolling my eyes, I went back into the studio.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

The evening before we started recording, Draco and I were sitting down to dinner together. It had been a strained several weeks, I was silently seething at Draco without trying to show it, and he was quieter than usual.

'Probably missing Pansy,' I thought maliciously to myself on several occasions.

The fact was, after that night I caught them, he stopped coming home late and having mysterious business dinners. My thought was that he was afraid of looking suspicious and was just spacing the meetings in such a way that would fool me.

'Too late,' I sneered when he wasn't looking.

I had decided that I wanted Draco there when we recorded the song that he inspired, and so as I picked the dishes up to put in the kitchen to be washed, I broached the subject with him.

"Draco, are you busy tomorrow?" I asked casually.

"I don't think so. Why?"

"We're beginning to record our new album, and I wanted you to be there with me."

His smile lit up the room, and I could almost forget what a cheating bastard he was. Almost.

"I'd love to be there, Harry. You've never invited me to listen to you record before."

"Well, this time is a special occasion. You inspired one of the songs."

"I did? Will you show it to me?"

"Not until tomorrow. I want to play it for you."

"I can hardly wait."

'Neither can I,' a vindictive part of me agreed.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

'Draco's Song,' as I had nicknamed the newest song, was the last one to be recorded that day. It was the first of several days of recording, but I had insisted that song be one of the first, so that Draco could hear it.

It took a while to get everything set up and ready to go, but finally the producer let us know that we were good to go. Draco, in the sound booth outside the recording studio, gave me a thumbs up, and I flashed him a half smile.

The opening bars of the song started, and Nathaniel and Anthony were playing brilliantly. Corban and I started our parts several measures later, and when the cue came for me to start singing, I took a deep, silent breath and put my heart into it. The world ceased existing. There was only me and the music. The same scenes flashed through my head that had when I was writing the song, and I couldn't help a small tear falling from the corner of one eye.

During the second verse, I opened my eyes and stared directly at Draco, who seemed to have been fidgeting uncomfortably. I didn't take my eyes from him as we went hard into the last chorus, and I intensified as much as I could without making my voice break. I wanted Draco to know that I knew. That he had caused me a measure of pain that couldn't be healed with one of his barely-sincere apologies.

After the song was finished and the recording equipment switched off, the producer gave us permission to take a break and Draco walked up to me, looking a little sick. I couldn't bite back a hurt, sarcastic reply to his expression.

"What, didn't like that one?" Draco shook his head. I don't know if he was telling me that no, he didn't like it or no, that wasn't it. I didn't ask.

"Who wrote that song?" he asked quietly. I smirked at him.

"Well it was a bit of a team effort with the music, because I suck with guitar harmonies. But the lyrics were mine. I write most of the band's lyrics, you know that, Draco."

"Yes, I know that, I just wondered…" He was quiet for a moment, but I could tell that he still had more to say, so I waited. It paid off, and Draco opened his mouth, a look of puzzlement on his face. I could tell it was forced, hiding worry beneath.

"Harry, where did you come up with that song?"

"Well, Draco," I tried to pour all of the hurt I felt into the pronouncing of his name, "it came from here." I placed a hand over my heart.

"What do you mean?"

"Stop playing stupid with me, Malfoy. I saw you with Pansy three weeks ago." I wrenched my elbow away from the hand that Draco had placed on it, and he staggered a step backwards as if he had been struck.

"What?"

"The restaurant, the hotel, everything." I glared at him hatefully, and he flinched. "I even saw you kissing her in the park two weeks before _that_, you arsehole."

"Harry, let me explain."

"I don't think I want to hear it, Malfoy." I began walking out of the small room and down the hallway, our whispered argument was beginning to draw attention from the others, and I really didn't want to have to deal with the questions.

"Harry! Wait for me! Hold on, I need to explain!"

I stopped my retreat and looked around for an unused recording studio. Luckily for me, it was a slow day for music and the studio at the end of the hallway was empty. I scowled at Draco, and he looked pleadingly back at me.

"Come on," I spat, "I don't have all day."

Draco nodded and followed me into the room, shutting the door behind him. He leaned against the wall near the frame and found a sudden interest in the state of his fingernails. My patience with him was wearing thin, so I snapped at him.

"Get on with it, Malfoy!"

Draco started, dropping his hands to his sides.

"Harry, I…" His voice faltered and trailed off before he even began to explain.

It took a lot of willpower to not strangle him then and there, and I had to close my eyes and count to ten before I trusted myself to speak.

"Draco, do you realize what you've put me through the last month?" Draco nodded and I laughed. "No, I don't think you do." I gestured toward him in mock generosity. "But please, continue."

"Harry, we've been together for a long time," he began again.

"But apparently fidelity hasn't been involved in the deal for certain people," I interrupted snidely. Draco looked irritated once I said it.

"Will you _please_ let me speak?"

"Sorry," I said, not feeling very sorry at all.

"We've been together a long time, right? We've practically been together since I finished law school. And don't get me wrong, it's been great. I love you. But lately I had been wondering if I was _in love_ with you. You're the one who saved me from Voldemort, and I'm grateful for that. I was just thinking, what if I only thought that I was in love with you, when really it was only some twisted feeling of obligation rooted in that gratitude?"

I pushed away from the table I had been leaning against, and made to leave.

"I don't need to hear this. If you wanted to break up, you should have just said something."

Draco put his hand up to stop me. "I'm not finished yet."

I crossed my arms over my chest in a defensive posture and narrowed my eyes. "This had better be good, Malfoy."

"Just hear me out, Harry." Draco's eyes pleaded with me, though his voice was cool and calm, and I nodded once. "I used to care for Pansy. I'd never been in love with her, but if the war hadn't have happened… who knows. Well, a couple of months ago, we ran into each other in the office. She was still going through some legal issues with her father's estate from the war—"

"It's been six years," I stated, mildly surprised.

"She's trying to get some heirlooms back that were confiscated by the ministry."

"Mmh."

"Anyway. I recognized her, and we made plans to catch up and talk about old times. One thing led to another, and… well she ended up kissing me that evening."

I could feel my face growing warmer, and I struggled to contain my rage. Several deep breaths helped, but I could tell that Draco was watching me nervously.

"Go on," I urged softly.

"Harry, before two weeks ago, you're the only person that I'd ever had sex with—"

"Oh come on, Malfoy, I know we never talked in depth about our previous experience, but you can't possibly expect me to believe that you've never—"

"Harry. We've been through this before. I told you about all of my girlfriends, and you told me about your nonexistent love life before me…"

"Yes, you told me about your girlfriends, and I assumed—"

"There's your problem. You assumed. Having a relationship with someone does not necessarily mean that you have sex with them. Didn't I tell you before our first time that I hadn't done that before?"

"Well… Yes. But I thought you were talking about with guys!"

"No, it was my first time period. And I had to know, would it feel different with someone I had once cared about? Someone who I could have grown to love? And… it did. It felt different."

"Well, that's it then. Game over, have a nice life. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an album to record." I strode across the room and opened the door. Draco caught my arm before I could make it out into the hallway, and yanked me around to face him.

"It didn't feel the same. It wasn't better. There was _nothing_ there that night. After that, I knew that I was in love with you. _Am_ in love with you. I'm sorry, and I regret what I've done. I didn't mean for you to find out. Harry, please…"

"All I've ever wanted was to be loved. All the love I've ever known has been taken from me. I really thought that this time…" I shook my head and tried to steady my suddenly wavering voice. Slowly I pulled my arm from Draco's grasp. "Draco, I think we need to spend some time apart."

Draco looked at me with disbelief. "Are you breaking up with me?"

There was a long moment of silence that hung heavily between us as I studied his face. It hurt me to say what I did, but somehow I survived.

"Yes, I think I am."

Nathaniel was coming down the hall toward us, so I began walking to meet up with him. Draco didn't try to stop me.

"Are you okay, Harry?" he asked me, touching my shoulder lightly. I closed my eyes and drew in a slow, silent breath.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Or at least I will be."

I could feel Draco's eyes boring into my back as I retreated, but I never looked back.

AN: Never fear, a sequel is in the works. All shall be made better, unless the muse turns sadistic...


End file.
